London War Notes, 1939-1945 – Mollie Panter-Downes

London War Notes, 1939-1945 by Mollie Panter-Downes was my second book of 2013 and also my second book of the year by Panter-Downes, having started with her beautiful post-war novel, One Fine Day. I loved the novel, though perhaps not quite as much as I loved Good Evening, Mrs Craven, a volume of her wartime short stories, but nowhere near as much as I loved this volume of wartime journalism. Every fortnight throughout the war, Panter-Downes wrote a “Letter from London” for The New Yorker, giving American readers a glimpse into life during wartime as civilians dealt with rationing and bombs, suffered victories and defeats. Published in 1971, this book contains all of the letters and provides one of the finest, most perfectly observed portraits of wartime England I have ever read.

Panter-Downes has a gift for relating small particulars that amounts to a kind of genius. I loved her use of imagery in her fiction but was not sure how that would translate to journalism. I need not have worried. From the first letter it was clear that, if anything, as a journalist she was even more attuned to the details. Her description of the civilian response to the declaration of war, with middle-aged women and retired officers mobilizing in the country, was wonderful:

All over the country, the declaration of war has brought a new lease of life to retired army officers, who suddenly find themselves the commanders of battalions of willing ladies who have emerged from the herbaceous borders to answer the call of duty. Morris 10s, their windshields plastered with notices that they are engaged on business of the ARP or WVS (both volunteer services), rock down quiet country lanes propelled by firm-lipped spinsters who yesterday could hardly have said ‘Boo!’ to an aster. (3 September 1939)

She also manages to include information I didn’t know or had forgotten about and, more delightfully, to corroborate information I’ve gleaned from novels. Having enjoyed Angela Thirkell’s rants about the awful standard of programming offered by the BBC during the war, it was great fun to hear someone else complain about it too:

…it does seem probable that schemes for reopening theatre and cinemas will be drawn up shortly. Meanwhile, Britons find themselves dependent for entertainment on the BBC, which desperately filled the gaps in its first wartime programs with gramophone recordings and jolly bouts of community singing stiff with nautical heave-hos and folksy nonny-noes. There has already been considerable public criticism of these programs and of the tendency of announcers to read out important news in tones that suggest they are understudying for Cassandra on the walls of Troy. (10 September 1939)

No wonder they had to reopen the theatres and cinemas if that was the only entertainment on offer!

Even though Panter-Downes was writing for an American audience, she does not pander. She reports on what is happening in London and rural England, which is not necessarily what Americans were most interested in hearing about. America’s entry into the war (and the bombing of Pearl Harbour) is over-shadowed by public concern for friends and family members working or stationed in the Far East:

On Monday, December 8th, London felt as it did at the beginning of the war. Newsdealers stood on the corners handing out papers as steadily and automatically as if they were husking corn; people bought copies on the way out to lunch and again on the way back, just in case a late edition might have sneaked up on them with some fresher news. Suddenly and soberly, this little island was remembering its vast and sprawling possessions of Empire. It seemed as though every person one met had a son in Singapore or a daughter in Rangoon; every post office was jammed with anxious crowds finding out about cable rates to Hong Kong, Kuala Lumpur, or Penang. (14 December 1941)

Though she can touchingly discuss the fears of her fellow Englishmen and women, she is not sentimental. Part of what I loved so much about Good Evening, Mrs Craven was her willingness to explore the anger and disgruntlement that lurked beneath the more acceptable stoicism or jolliness. Here, somewhat surprisingly given her audience, she is just as open about the mood of bitterness and frustration that settled over the country during the darkest moments of the war in 1942: the Pacific theatre had opened, a German invasion seemed imminent, and even Churchill was no longer infallible:

His promises that Singapore would be held and that Rommel’s forces would be destroyed haven’t helped the public to view with equanimity to the ignominious British retreats in Malaya and Libya. You hear people say that they have always trusted him in the past because they knew that he would let them have the truth, however unpalatable; now there’s an uneasy suspicion that fine oratory may sometimes carry away the orator as well as his audience. You also hear people say that anyway they’ve had enough of fine oratory; what they would like is action and a sign from Mr Churchill that he understands the profoundly worried temper of the country… (14 February 1942)

Once the outlook for victory began to improve – perhaps especially once that started to happen – Panter-Downes was still there, perfectly observing and relating the mood of a population tense with anticipation:

Londoners, normally as good-tempered a crowd of people as you could hope to find anywhere, are beginning to show the strain of these first keyed-up days of a year which by now every statesman must have hailed as one of fateful decision…Naturally, a lot of the native good humour and manners is still around, but the surface impression is that everybody’s nerves are frayed. Possibly it’s the inevitable hangover of the winter’s flu epidemic, plus four years of wartime diet, but it seems more likely to be an inevitable result of simply waiting for something to happen. (30 January 1944)

The writing is unfaultable but the book as a whole can make for heavy reading. Each letter is dense with details, providing an invaluable blend of political and domestic observations, but as a collection the flow is slightly awkward at times. There are repetitions and contradictions which would not have been obvious to The New Yorker’s subscribers, reading these letters months or years apart, but which are noticeable here. Still, editing the letters and removing content would have me up in arms: it might give the book a better flow but it would sadly impair its value as a historical document. What I am truly bothered by is the editor’s apparent disinterest in providing any introduction to Panter-Downes or information on her life when she was writing these letters, and I am irritated his only half-hearted effort to clarify which battles and world events Panter-Downes references (though not always by name) in her letters. Battles that once occupied the headlines are now long forgotten and though there are some explanatory notes I think more detail would make the book more accessible.

These letters lack the personal touch of diaries since Panter-Downes maintains journalistic detachment throughout, detailing the experiences of the everyman rather than relating anecdotes about herself (at least openly), but with her clear eye for detail Panter-Downes captured moments that other accounts omit. She is calm in her reporting and thankfully unexcitable but knows exactly what will be of most interest to her readers – both then and now. Having sampled three very different examples of her writing, I can now declare that it is Panter-Downes the journalist who impresses me the most.

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27 Responses

Oh, this sounds astonishingly good, Claire! I love the excerpts you quoted – I was worried she might lose all sense of humour in this, but I don’t know why I would have thought that. I can see – *sigh* – that I’m going to have to track down a copy.

It is really wonderful, Simon, and, yes, her sense of humour is definitely at play throughout! I loved the criticism of the BBC announcers as “understudying for Cassandra on the walls of Troy.” I’ll keep my fingers crossed that you’re able to find a copy.

Copies are hard to come by, since it was published in 1970, and as far as I can tell, never reprinted. I had a copy from the Toronto PUblic Library a few months ago, and because it isn’t quick light reading, it was due before I finished (so I have to get it again).

They are definitely difficult to come by so it’s lucky that TPL has a copy! I borrowed this by ILL and didn’t have the luxury of being able to renew it (or easily check it out again) so read it in three days and it was heavy going at times. Completely worth it though!

Yes, the odds of stumbling across it seem pretty low, don’t they? I am going to keep my fingers crossed that it gets reprinted one day (if ever a book deserved to be rediscovered!) but for now I’m happy to heart that you’ll be able to ILL from VPL. Lucky you!

I’m always thrilled to find someone else reading this book. I spotted it purely by chance in the library, I was smitten, and I consider myself very lucky to have found an ex library copy in a charity shop.

And I’ve been back in the same period, reading ‘the Love Charm of Bombs’ and finally meeting Charles Ritchie.

I consider you lucky too! It is a wonderful book but, sadly, I think not one that is easily available for most readers. Even my well-stocked library did not have a copy and I had to bring it in via inter-library loan.

How awful, Debbie! This is not an easy book to track down but it is sad that they don’t even have any of her more recently reprinted fiction. Badly done, Nova Scotia.

One Fine Day is lovely, if you can find a reasonably priced copy, but I adored Good Evening, Mrs Craven and am really looking forward to the post-war stories in Minnie’s Room (both volumes published by Persephone and readily available).

Wow, this sounds great. I shall place a hold on it at my library and get it sent up out of storage. I absolutely love reading about Britain during World War II, and I think what I’ll do is read it in fits and starts. Just to stop it being too heavy a read.

And, because I try never to miss an opportunity to plug my girl Joan Wyndham, I will say that my favorite personal account of World War II Britain is Joan Wyndham’s Love Lessons. It is her diaries. Nothing in the world has ever been more delightful than Joan Wyndham’s Love Lessons. Seriously.

Save it from storage, Jenny! Save it! And, if you have the chance, it is a book to be savoured.

Your cheerleading has not gone unnoticed though, because I have my own favourite, I 100% doubt that Wyndham could be anywhere near as wonderful a war diarist as my beloved Charles Ritchie. 😉 One day I will track down Love Lessons and we shall see!

It is interesting to read diaries, letters and other such documents. History booksare always written with the benefit of hindsight, knowing how events will turn out. Diaries and letters show what people were actually thinking at the time.

There is a copy for $40 on the secondhand book aggregator site ADDALL. It’s amongst all the other copies (much more expensive) but it’s a first US edition by the look of it and in nice condition.
Another wonderful book from the period before the war is Robert Graves and Alan Hodge’s ‘The Long Weekend’. A great read.